


strangled silence

by chailattemusings



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Emotional Abuse, Gen, Manipulation, Other, Past Abuse, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 09:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11734107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chailattemusings/pseuds/chailattemusings
Summary: Vex was not a victim. She did not suffer. Yet still the memories rattled her to the core.





	strangled silence

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very personal fanfic based on some of my own experiences. I hope it helps someone else to read it.

She had never said no.

In the days, weeks, months that it happened, when Vex wanted nothing more than to claw her way out, run for the hills and never look back, she didn’t. She didn’t tell anyone, not  _him_ , nor Vax or Trinket or anyone else, how much her stomach dropped and her heart fluttered in trapped fear every time it happened, every time she had to slink over to  _his_  room and undress and lay down and pretend she enjoyed it. 

There wasn’t even any money. She walked away with nothing,  _less_  than nothing after another shred of her pride and dignity had been torn away from her, buttoning her shirt quickly because looking at her own naked skin made her sick.

She had been young, and foolish, and desperate, and maybe that was reason enough but it had never made sense to her, and made even less sense to feel this awful and disgusted and filthy when  _she had never said no_.

Which was why, when sharing a girl’s night with Keyleth and Pike at a bar in Whitestone, and they asked what each other’s worst sexual encounter was, Vex was both horrified and furious with herself for thinking of those days, for thinking of  _him_. 

“I’ve never been with anyone but Vax,” Keyleth said, clutching her drink, a severe blush burning under her freckles. “I guess– our first time wasn’t  _amazing_ , um. I really liked it. But since then we’ve… gotten a lot better.” She tucked her drink closer, biting her bottom lip so hard it looked like she might break the skin.

Pike laughed and patted Keyleth’s back, thankfully divested of her gauntlets for the night. “That’s okay, Keyleth! Thanks for being honest.” She grinned conspiratorially. “Was it Vax’s first time too?”

Keyleth laughed nervously and took a long, slow sip of her drink.

“Well then.” Pike turned to Vax. “ _You’re_  going to have to tell us more about your brother, but first, spill. What was your worst time with someone?”

Vex’s shoulders tensed, her mind flashing back to when she’d been nineteen, young and stupid and still naive to the world despite having run away from home and living alone in the woods with her brother and her pet.

They’d gotten so tired of living out there, of always running, of being afraid someone would see them and have a friend of a friend who knew their father who would drag them back to Syngorn kicking and screaming. Even then, years later, they were paranoid. And if they’d stayed a few days at an inn to take some baths and be around other people, if one of the bar patrons had noticed Vex and convinced her to stay for a few drinks, well, who could blame her? He’d been human, too, something she’d known would piss her father off were he to ever find out.

He’d smiled and told her that she was gorgeous, something Vex had rarely heard from the elves in Syngorn. It had felt… nice.

“Vex?”

She jolted out of her thoughts. “Um. That’s.” She coughed and sipped her drink, wishing belatedly that she’d ordered something stronger. “It’s a long story.” 

Pike frowned. “Is it?” 

She’d never said no, because she was young and pretty and the man had called to her so mournfully when she’d talked about going back to her room, to her brother, insisted she stay longer and talk because he wanted to hear all about her life as a half-elf. And she’d stayed; his touch was warm and the inn’s food was good and it had felt  _nice_  when he put his arms around her shoulders and whispered in her ear about wanting to spend a long night with a lovely lady.

Maybe she’d led him on. She certainly hadn’t stopped anything. The first time had been exhilarating, letting herself go and throwing caution to the wind. And when Vax had wanted to move on and she’d instead insisted on staying awhile, seeing the town, the human man she’d met had asked for another night with her. And another, and another. And she had never said no.

Vex wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there, sipping the drink, silent. “You don’t want to hear it,” she said quietly.

Pike and Keyleth stared at her for a long moment, and Pike said, “Okay, ummm, I’ll tell you about  _my_  worst time.” She paused, glancing at Vex, and continued, “There was this gnome girl I had a crush on when I was little, and, you know, Wilhand took me in after a while,  _but_  when I got older I met another girl who looked a lot like that first one…”

Vex tried to listen to the story, she really did. Pike’s face was lit up with emotion as she talked about the gnome girl who knew  _nothing_  about actually pleasing someone, but Vex drifted in and out, her mind hinged on memories she’d tried to bury ages ago.

She could remember the way he would tuck his face against her neck, breathing in her scent after they’d had sex. He would talk about how much he enjoyed the smell of her, so much cleaner than the human girls with poor breeding he would take to bed. It had been delightful the first few times, to think even after living in the woods that she was so appealing, that a bath at the inn was all she needed to look beautiful again. 

He’d told her that the elf boys didn’t appreciate her enough. And it was true, so she’d believed it. 

As Pike’s story ended and she finished off with a laugh and another swallow of her drink, her cheeks flushing red with her growing inebriation, Vex pushed her own cup aside and stood from the table. “I think I’m going to go home,” she said, picking up her coin purse and digging around until she found enough gold to cover their meal and a handsome tip, leaving it next to her half-empty drink.

“Already?” Keyleth asked. She’d forgotten her own embarrassment after Pike’s story and was happily drinking a second beer. “We’ve only been here for, like, an hour.” 

“I know, and I love you both, and we’ll need another evening like this soon, but I’m– I’m tired.” She brushed some of her hair out of her eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry for ducking out so fast.” 

“Vex,” Pike said gently, reaching to grab her hand and squeeze. “If this is because we asked about your sex life, then–”

“Darling,” Vex cut in with a laugh, returning Pike’s thoughtful squeeze. “You know I’m not shy about sex in the least. My worst time wasn’t worth explaining. Don’t worry.” She swallowed and pulled her hand away, walking around their table. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” she called over her shoulder, hurrying out of the bar before either of them could stop her.

The sun had just been setting when they’d gone out, and now it was dark, a thick blanket of quiet covering Whitestone’s streets. There were lights from the buildings and if Vex listened she would have been able to hear muffled conversations inside, people out drinking or at home with their families, but she walked too fast to catch anything. 

She stepped with a quick  _clack clack_  of her boots on the paved cobblestone, both arms wrapped around herself, but she couldn’t walk fast enough to forget the way  _his_  hands had felt on her, the way he’d gripped her wrists and begged when she tried to leave. He’d spoken often of how special she was, of how no other woman made him feel the way he did, and would she stay in town just one more week, promise? And despite Vax’s complaints and Trinket’s depression at her constant absence, she’d agreed, and let those hands wander to places that made Vex want to curl up and cry out with how much she did not want them there.

But she’d never said no. 

And so she had no right to whine about a few bad memories and the occasional nightmares that creeped into her mind when there was nothing else to fill it. She wasn’t  _traumatized;_  she was more open about sex than anyone else in Vox Machina, and even thinking of the word  _trauma_ filled her with shame and horror. She wasn’t helpless, had never been helpless. If she’d wanted to she could have shot an arrow through the man’s neck and been done with him for good.

Vex tried not to think about why she never had.

Even at her pace, walking all the way to the castle took a good hour, and she was sweating under her shirt by the time she arrived. She stopped in the front hall, breathing hard, hands shaking. She needed– she needed a drink, something without alcohol, something to calm her nerves. Her first instinct was coffee, but…

He’d always asked the innkeeper to bring them coffee afterward, hadn’t he?

She growled at herself and darted down one hall, toward the kitchens. She wasn’t going to do this, not now, not tonight, not  _ever_  and she was damned if she’d let it control her. 

The kitchen doors burst open with the might of Vex’s intrusion, slamming against the stone, and Vex made it two steps inside before she stopped.

Cassandra was there, standing over a silver tray laid out with a teapot and cookies. She startled and had a hand halfway to her hip, where a shortsword hung on her belt, until she noticed who it was. “Vex?” Her stance didn’t relax and she gripped the hilt of her sword. “Is something wrong? Did someone attack you?”

“What? No, I… oh.” Vex forced herself to stand up straight, pulling at her clothes to smooth any ruffles. “I suppose it must seem that way with me barging in. I was just– well– it’s a long story,” she said with a sigh.

Cassandra frowned and released her sword. “Does it concern your safety or the safety of anyone here?”

“No, it’s fine. There’s no danger, I promise. I was only being emotional.”

“Good, then.” She paused, and turned back to her tray, picking it up. “I was about to have some tea and retire for the evening.” She waited for Vex to respond, and when she didn’t, said, “Would you care to join me?”

Vex eyes widened. “You want me to?” 

Cassandra’s even expression revealed nothing. “Yes, if you like.” 

“I… okay.” Tea was as good as coffee. Better, possibly. Vex pushed away the quiet thought that tea had never been part of  _his_  rituals, because that was absolutely not a reason to favor one drink over another. “Let’s go,” she said weakly, turning and opening up the kitchen doors in a much more civil manner. 

Cassandra walked past her with an air of grace nigh impossible to anyone else carrying a tray full of food, and Vex followed. 

“I’m surprised you got that for yourself,” Vex said, hurrying a few steps to walk beside her. “I would think you’d have someone fetch it.” 

“It’s convenient when I’m busy,” Cassandra said without looking at her. “But I’ve finished my work and I wanted to stretch a bit. Besides, the cooks never make the tea precisely the way I prefer.” 

They walked until they reached Cassandra’s study and Vex opened the door for her. She suspected that Cassandra had wanted to retire to her room, and when she shut the door behind her she said, “Thank you again. I was feeling rather frazzled, as I’m sure you could guess. I think some tea and some quiet is what I need.” 

“Of course.” Cassandra set the tray on a table beside her desk, moving her chair closer to it and preparing a cup for herself. Vex found another chair nearby and dragged it over to sit across from Cassandra.

The tea was a warm brown, and the tray had containers for milk and sugar. Vex dumped more sugar than she probably needed into hers and stirred it thoughtfully, her eyes drifting between Cassandra and examining the room. She’d been in Cassandra’s study a few times but Cassandra didn’t like anyone to linger, and it was easier to relax while she looked around.

For a few minutes they were silent, drinking their tea, not looking directly at one another. Cassandra took a cookie, breaking it into fours and dipping each piece individually in her tea before eating it. 

“Aren’t you worried about crumbs in your tea?”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mind it.”

“Oh, all right.” 

Again they were silent. Vex looked down into her cup, tilting it to watch the liquid swirl. 

“I’m not going to ask.”

Cassandra’s words pulled Vex from her thoughts and she looked up, meeting her gaze. “Pardon?” 

“I said, I won’t ask.” Cassandra ate another piece of cookie, chewing slowly and chasing it down with tea. “As long as whatever upset you isn’t an immediate danger to the city or to Percival, it’s not my business. So you can stop glancing at me and looking like a kicked puppy.”

Vex tensed. “I didn’t realize I looked that way.”

“If you wish to talk, feel free. I can’t guarantee any advice or help, and I won’t pry.”

“It’s fine, I… I don’t want to talk about it.” She licked her lips. “Is that why you invited me? Because of how upset I looked? If it was pity, then–”

“Nonsense.” Cassandra waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t have time to throw pity around. As you said, you looked in need of some tea. And quiet.”

There was something in Cassandra’s eyes, in the way she looked at Vex. She was right, it wasn’t pity. It looked more like… understanding. Sympathy? No, not even that. Cassandra had never been the sympathetic type. But it was more than someone offering tea to a frazzled friend, especially since Vex didn’t consider herself and Cassandra friends so much as colleagues. 

“In that case,” Vex said, reaching for one of the cookies, “I appreciate it. I don’t care to be pitied.”

“You’re too strong for that, besides.”

Vex paused with the cookie halfway to her lips. “I didn’t know you thought that.”

Cassandra only took another sip of her tea. 

Vex leaned back in her chair and took another look at the room. Like everywhere else, the walls were made of stone, a couple bookshelves no doubt filled with endless notes on Whitestone on one wall, the other wall taken up by an empty fireplace. There was one large window facing outside, where she could see the edges of the city below. The study was large, and open, and if Vex wanted to she could stand up and leave and never come back, and Cassandra wouldn’t care.

The tea was sweeter than coffee, almost painfully so, but when Vex drank it she let the taste wash over her and burn away the memories, burn away his touch and taste and smell and every single word he’d woven around her to hold her down.

She’d never said no. But in the end, she’d left, and that was what mattered. 


End file.
